The strains of the national anthem were echoing through Carnesecca Arena before Wednesday night’s game against Stony Brook and Ricky Torres’ thoughts drifted to his younger brother, Alejandro.

“Ali” is the sweetest kid Ricky knows – always playing with an unsharpened pencil; always finding something to eat in the fridge. Ali is 11 years old and he wears size 36 jeans.

Little big man.

Torres, a freshman at St. John’s, can’t allow these thoughts to linger or his head won’t be in the game. He’ll go on to score a career-high 10 points on 2-of-3 shooting on 3s in the Red Storm’s 63-45 win. But that’s not this story.

Ali wasn’t at the game. Their mother, Yolanda Ortiz, brought him to a game earlier this season but sweet Ali got too excited. He dropped the pencil under the stands and couldn’t sit still until Yolanda got a replacement.

This is one of the incongruities of a child with Down Syndrome. Ali loves nothing more than watching Ricky, 19, play. But the first time Ali went to see Ricky at St. Raymond’s as a ninth grader, Yolanda had to stop from him running onto the court.

“I don’t see my little brother as a negative thing,” Torres told The Post. “He’s a loving kid. Everyone who meets him loves the kid. He’s that friendly to everyone … I got a lot of love for that kid.”

You hear a lot of young male athletes say they’re going to take care of their mom when they make it big in sports, but Ricardo Torres of the Bronx has bigger dreams. He wants to take care of his mother and his brother.

Albert Pujols of the Cardinals has a stepchild who has Down Syndrome and The Pujols Family Foundation is a generous donor. Torres doesn’t have Pujols’ money, but he’s already stepped up big-time.

There are men twice Ricky’s age who won’t change their infant son’s diapers. Ricky changes Ali’s diapers. He bathes him. Real love.

“At first, it was kind of strange changing my little brother’s diapers, but as I kept doing it, it didn’t really bother me,” said Torres. “This is my blood. I’ll do anything for my blood.”

Ricky was eight when Ali was born, too young, Yolanda knew to explain Down Syndrome to her oldest son. She said Ali was sick. Ricky took to him. Brother, friend, guardian.

“By the time Papi was 12, he was on the computer looking up Down Syndrome on the Internet,” Yolanda said, using her nickname for her son. “He’d watch television shows on Down. Papi was always a very sensitive kid.”

Ali speaks mostly in one-word responses, or by pointing, or with sounds and facial expressions. He’s in a specialized school and Ricky sees constant improvement.

“I want a better life for my brother,” Ricky said. “When he sees me playing, he enjoys it. He pretends like he’s shooting. He makes the sound, ‘swish.’ He has so much good in him. That’s what I see.”

When Torres signed with St. John’s, he was considered one of the first coups for second-year coach Norm Roberts – a player from the city who chose the Red Storm over Pittsburgh and Louisville. Torres has looked smooth at times, tentative at others.

He knows he gives his first minutes of play too much credence over the rest of his game. He must learn to let the game come. Either way Ali will smile and pretend he’s shooting. “Swish.”

“There’s a special bond there,” said Oliver Antigua, Ricky’s coach at St. Ray’s. “I’ve seen a lot of brothers who are close, but it’s different with Ricky and Ali. They share a special love.”